


Omissions and Evocations

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Family, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Oneshot, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: Despite what everyone assumed, Tintin was not an orphan.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Omissions and Evocations

**Author's Note:**

> I've never before seen this suggestion for Totor's full name and relationship to Tintin so I'm claiming founder of this headcanon status.
> 
> Busted this out in one hour so any typos are my own fault hope you enjoy!
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](www.augustinremi.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](www.twitter.com/seccotines).

Haddock wasn’t snooping per se, it just happened that Tintin had the infuriating habit of hiding the key to the liquor cabinet, and Haddock was dying for a drink. Tintin was under no illusion that such a stunt could cure the Captain’s alcoholism (and usually the key was readily handed back with clasped hands), but he did like to make it a little bit harder to engage in vice. So, Tintin occasionally spirited away the key so that drinking was only a habit for the Master of Marlinspike, instead of a lifestyle.

Haddock did not know what he expected to find in the guest room, but he was disappointed at the lack of personality there. Tintin had been in Marlinspike only a month and Haddock knew he still paid dues to Mrs. Finch. If he intended to return to his little flat naturally he would be hesitant to transport his whole life to the countryside, but in Haddock there was a keen desire to cling to his companion. _I’ll convince the boy to move in fully yet_ , he told himself, _all this space and no one to fill it_. Still, this was not about Tintin, this was about the key, so he set to work on his search. Haddock pulled out all the drawers: blue sweaters, white and yellow shirts, ties in pink, black, and blue. In the lower drawer were more exotic costumes: a monochrome blue silk set with dark cap, an unidentifiable military uniform with epaulets still shining, and even an old kilt, now there was an image!

He even pressed on the sides of the wardrobe, believing TIntin was not above building a secret compartment, to no avail. Next, he turned his attention to the bedside table. There was a Bible, several pens, a notepad, and a pair of round glasses that made him chuckle. Tintin would look like an owl in these. There was also a bottle of sleeping pills with a doctor’s heavy scrawl on the side. He wondered what kept TIntin up at night. Phantom pains in his limbs from his injuries? Dark images of men intent on inflicting bodily harm? The guarded secrets of his childhood?

He next checked under the bed. There was an unassuming wooden box that he removed with trepidation, wiping dust off the lid. Strange boxes under beds never bode well and Haddock had half a mind to let it be, lest he discover a more lurid side of the youth he’d rather not know, but the call for whisky overwhelmed his reticence. _At best it will be just another pistol,_ he told himself, give it _just a peep to check for the key._

What he found were photographs. 

There was a locket with a young couple, just married, the woman’s white dress flaring out like a flower, but the faces were too small to discern details. The small engraving on the inside read: Property of Georges Remi. Another posed photograph was an older man with a long face, Greek nose, gentle smile, and hair parted to the side; Haddock can see this image is the most valued by Tintin in the way the edges are lightly worn down by fingertips from multiple viewings. There is a smattering of other portraits as well: men, women, several children. He saw fleeting glimpses of Tintin scattered among their features, a round jaw line here, a pert nose there, so that Haddock can envision taking scissors to the lot to build a perfect collage of Tintin’s visage. Of course he would never do such a thing. These photos are clearly dear to his friend.

Another stood out among the rest, a newspaper cut-out, at least ten years old, of two boys in scout uniforms. The smaller boy was definitely Tintin, his face rounder and even his signature quiff missing, but the smile and eyes were the same, emanating the aura of confidence and boyish charm he had maintained into his teens. The older boy was unrecognizable to Haddock, a more roguish smile gracing his lips, his facial shape mirrored the man from the first image. His hair was buzzed short unlike Tintin. The caption read: Victor and Augustin Remi represent the Boy Scouts of Belgium.

“Could never keep your face out of the paper, eh Tintin?” Haddock said to himself.

“Captain.” 

He swirled around to see Tintin standing calmly in the doorway.

“A-apologies, I didn’t mean to-”

“Curiosity got the better of you I see.” Tintin crouched near where the photographs were splayed out on the floor. He cradled the locket in his hand before clasping it shut and tucking it into his pocket.

“Mother and Father. They live in Etterbeek. Father is a cartoonist. I visit them once a month.” Tintin tugged the newspaper from Haddock’s hand and gazed at it with a novel fondness. “That’s my elder brother. No one except the papers calls us Victor and Augustin. Quite the pair we were: Totor and Tintin.”

“You never talked about your family before. I thought you were an orphan.”

“Most people do. It’s easiest I think.” Tintin gently folded the newspaper and placed it back in the box. “I don’t want my background getting in the way of my journalism. I’m not a human interest story. And I don’t want my family to get mixed-up with all the danger either, although I’m sure they have the guts to take care of themselves if any ruffians came knocking.” He laughed. Haddock could not say if he agreed or not. Certainly this Totor looked like he could handle himself, but Tintin’s parents seemed of average stock, not to be seen fighting any of the people who hunted their son for the crime of sticking his nose too far into things.

“Are these your family too?” A gesture to the remainder of the box’s contents.

“Yes, Uncle Edgart, Uncle Robert, Uncle Jacques, Aunt Josette." Tintin swept these aside to reveal a series that prominently featured him, aged perhaps fifteen or so, surrounded by three boys and a girl. Tintin holding a kite while the children held small paper airplanes. Tintin with the girl riding his back like a monkey and a boy clasping his hand. Tintin sitting in a clearly shoddily made chair while a blond boy and dark haired boy grinned holding hammers and nails.

"My cousins: Jo, Zette, Quick, Flupke.” Tintin pointed them out one by one.

“The children in your family all have such odd names,” Haddock mused. “Why even these children have the same name as your Aunt.”

“Funny thing,” Tintin said with a sparkle in his eye that was no explanation at all.

“Do you get along well with your family? Blast it what a question, it's you, of course you do.”

“They love me very much if that is what you’re asking.”

“Good. Good.” The Captain huffed, realizing he was probably not going to get more info out of Tintin at this juncture. He placed the photos gingerly back inside the box and gently slid it back under the bed. “If you wanted we could get some real frames and put them up. Make it feel a bit like home here.”

“That would be very nice.”

“It’s the least I could do to make up for going through your things without asking. it’s just I was looking for the blasted liquor cabinet key. It’s gone missing, you see.”

Tintin reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the end of a necklace that had been surreptitiously looped around his neck, upon which was the familiar key. It occurred to Haddock that this was a sign Tintin had forgiven him for his invasion of privacy. Tintin knew that it was not out of malice or disrespect, but just a byproduct of his own personal shortcomings. This was the part of Haddock that Tintin did not look down on him for, but bore with patience. Haddock would forgive Tintin as well for his secrecy. While he was not the type, he knew for other men some things were better left close to the heart.

“Let’s have a drink together, Captain. I think I'm owed some stories of your family as well.”

“Happy to oblige, laddie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the Tintin server for inspiring this work in their conversation of how Tintin deserves a family.
> 
> Comments and kudos super appreciated!!


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